


A Lesson Never Learned

by J3 (CaseMatthews)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Cutting, Depression, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery, Sad Castiel, Self Harm, Soldier Dean, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseMatthews/pseuds/J3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is admitted to Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital, he's pretty sure he's headed for hell. For Sammy, he tells himself. With extreme night-terrors, flashbacks, one seriously messed up overseas tour under his belt, he knows there's no hope. Until, of course, he lands some help in the form of his blue eyed, dark haired, slightly terrified cell-mate. Who knew psych wards could be so romantic?</p><p>Warnings for:           Self harm, depressing stuff, soldier Dean, suicide attempt, rape, graphic depictions of violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson Never Learned

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published fanfic! *squeeeee* Please be kind, to whoever (unless I'm talking to myself) is reading this. Also, if anyone does read and enjoy, tell me! It will spur me on to continue.  
> I'm not very well practiced in this whole shebang, but I'll try my best.  
> Also #2, I really know diddly-squat about mental wards and stuff, especially military tours and depression and other stuff. If anyone knows more than me, please let me know and I'll correct myself.  
> I'm English, so my spelling is English. Suck it up.  
> Un-beta'd.  
> Okay.  
> I'll stop now.  
> Right.  
> Now.  
> Go read. Go...  
> Go! :DD
> 
>  
> 
> I am currently in the process of sorting out my fics--this is really not on a list to be continued, so sorry about that I guess. I might be deleting it in the near future.

Dean hates hospitals.

Always has, always will, there’s not much changing it as far as he can see.

And the feeling of driving up to one for an unmentionable amount of time has him sitting uneasily in the back seat of some cruddy Honda thing he can’t wait to escape. Although, leaving the car means entering a mental hospital in middle-of-nowhere, Colorado, so maybe it’s the best bet.

Ah, fuck. Yeah, Dean really fucking hates hospitals.

“How you holding up back there, sweetie?”

Patronising bitch.

The only woman Dean has ever allowed to call him fucking sweetie was his mother and she’s dead. So fuck this old cow.

“It’s Dean,” he growls, glaring out the side window. Ugh, he feels like a goddamn sweetie. Pitiful and useless. Yeah, that just about sums him up right now.

“Great, Dean, good to know,” she says, again all bubbly and over the top. She’s starting to grate on him, big style. She grins over her shoulder, a round mound of yellow blouse and frills clashing with mottled pink skin. Her eyes are crunched so much they’re just slits in her face; powdery blue, lined slits in a pudgy face, looking down at him like the child he was ten years ago. He watches from his mind as he jumps forward, pushes her against the car window and hisses with all he’s worth that she is the ignorant one. She can’t even imagine what Dean has seen, what he’s done for her fucking country, that lets her keep wearing that fugly blouse instead of prison fucking blue.

But he won’t because he doesn’t do that. He wants to, but he doesn’t.

He just shrinks down into the seat and watches Colorado go by.

About ten minutes later and a building appears. Red brick, three stories, clock tower. Pretty much huge. Dean didn’t exactly know what he was expecting, but basically a mansion in the centre of nothing isn’t exactly it. Or it maybe it was. Dean kinda thought some gothic building with spires and lightning in the background would suddenly crop up as he got dragged in to the table, scalpels at his throat and electrodes at his temples. Generally a dark, creepy ass, haunted kinda place, but this is…kinda nice. Weirdly nice, actually and it sets Dean more on edge than the vampire palace would have. He doesn’t really like surprises.

“Ah, here we are,” Tubs says, shuffling in her seat as they draw nearer. Dean sees a man stood at the steps, dressed in an ugly striped sweater and white scrubs with his arms behind his back. He waves when he notices the car advancing on the extended driveway though. Dean’s heart skips and he takes an audibly long breath in. Annoying Lady notices and chuckles, “Don’t stress, Dean, it’s alright. We don’t bite.”

Don’t stress. Oh, that’s fucking funny. Dean forgot to fucking laugh. He doesn’t forget to roll his eyes though, hard.

The car pulls up beside the front steps and sweater guy moves forward to open Dean’s door. Here we go.

“Afternoon, Dean,” he says cheerfully, moving back to allow Dean out of the plastic monstrosity. Dean does so, but reluctantly. “How you doing?”

Dean stares down at him, the fair few inches down. “Fucking awesome, thanks.” This dude has to be, what, a couple years older? Five at most. He hasn’t got the same ‘I’m talking to a kiddy so I have to be on my best behaviour!’ edge that that lady has, but Dean doesn’t appreciate the cheeriness for such a situation. Better than yellow-blouse, though.

The guy laughs and claps Dean on the upper-arm, leaving it there to guide him forward. Dean follows, because he doesn’t have a choice.

“My names Gabriel,” he says, leading Dean up the steps and into the building. It’s posh inside, well decorated and clinical. Fucking boring, but clean. “I’m the nurse-boy on your floor, just so you know. Yeah, yeah, male nurse and all that. What can I say, it’s a rewarding job.”

Dean just blinks at him. Gabriel seems pretty cool, like someone he might get on with out in the real world, out where he matters and he is someone. If Dean met him in a bar, who knows he might even have hit on him. Gabriel’s cute enough, short maybe, but good looking, all longish golden hair and matching glowing eyes. Yeah, he’d definitely go all out, well at least before that last tour overseas. After that…yeah. He wouldn’t have gone near, and he won’t now.

Gabriel leads him up two flights of stairs, both on different corridors until they enter an official ward. Gabriel pushes the doors open dramatically, earning a surprisingly long and loud applause by a man younger than Dean sitting near it, crouched on the floor and looking up from himself pretty suspiciously. Gabriel doesn’t seem bothered by it though and bows, waving his arm in a flourish at the skinny little man.

“Thank you, thank you, Garth!” he says, moving on and up the hallway. “I’ll be here all week, old chap.”

The man just giggles and grins before going back to whatever is in his lap, which Dean can now see as a Rubik’s cube. Huh. Not particularly what Dean was expecting.

They walk further in, past rows of doors all closed, everything white and medical, just like the entrance to the place. A few people are dotted around here and there, all men, various ages. Gabriel says hello to all of them and only a few reply, generally with a grunt or a small smile, none with as much oomph as Garth back there. Some of them eye Dean. It makes him uneasy. After passing maybe six doors on each side of the wall, they walk into a clearing, an area of couch’s and a flat screen TV surrounded by about five guys. Next to that, round the corner is a canteen type room, lines of cafeteria tables and a kitchen with an opening at the front for people to collect their food, or so Dean assumes. It’s all…boring.

“…and here’s the canteen, good luck with the food, but we all have to endure it, so suck it up,” Gabriel’s saying, and it dawns on Dean that he’s been talking for a while. He doesn’t care. He wouldn’t have listened anyway. “Well, there you have it. The Ritz, I know. There’s a library, and we’ve got access to the roof but only on weekdays, and at designated times so the other wards get a go. You play sports, Dean?”

Dean doesn’t look at him this time, just keeps his eyes moving around the room, taking in his new home. Fuck it, he thinks and slumps slightly before rushing a hand over his scalp, dragging his hair into a messed up position, but he doesn’t care. Considering half these guys, he’s a prince in comparison.

He remembers Gabriel’s question. “No.” He leaves it at that and Gabriel just nods and looks as though he’s considering it for a second before splitting into a grin. He claps Dean’s shoulder again. Dean wonders if it’s safe to do that with all the patients. He doesn’t think so.

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” Gabriel laughs. “But right now, why don’t I show you to your room and you can change, huh? We’ll keep your clothes around until you leave or someone can pick them up.”

“My brother can take ‘em when he visits,” Dean says quickly, almost defensively. He doesn’t know what he’s defending from, but as soon as his brother is mentioned, he feels a tiny weight lift from his chest. He can’t wait for Sammy to come visit him, however guilty he might be from that. Sam deserves better than this, better than visiting his psycho brother in some psych ward in Colorado, but Dean’s gonna be selfish right now. He wants his brother, he needs him. Fuck, he’s doing this for him.

“Cool, I’ll put them in the office for now.” Gabe leads them to one door, a few down from an office type room, housing other orderlies and nurses as they clutch coffees and peer out at them through the blinds. Gabriel knocks softly and doesn’t wait for a reply before he moves inside. Dean follows.

“Well, good morning, Cas ma boy!” Gabriel sings, his arms extending at the person sitting on the bed closest to the door. Dean steps further inside and stands beside the nurse, dodging his arms. He looks at the man – more like boy – sat on the bed, unruly dark hair hanging on a smooth, pale forehead, bordering bright blue eyes that move slowly as they regard Gabriel and in turn, Dean himself. It annoys him to his core, but when those eyes take their turn surveying Dean, raking along his body, Dean feels naked, like the jeans and shirts and leather jacket he wears no longer exist and he’s standing there bare as the day he was born. They’re like razors cutting into him and when they move away, Dean exhales slightly.

“Good morning, Gabriel,” he says, tilting his head slightly, a slight curve to his lips as he takes in Gabriel’s grand gesture with almost raised eyebrows. Gabriel takes that as an expressed invitation and swoops in, bouncing onto the bed beside the guy, bouncing him with his weight. Dean figures he must know his patients pretty well if he gets away with that crap. He almost definitely wouldn’t with a lot of the guys here. Boy just smiles wider and shakes his head.

“How you doing today, buddy?” Gabriel asks, but it isn’t medical and mandatory, it’s humoured and slightly more personal. The boy actually responds, which is a surprise, even if it is probably just a cover up.

“I’m fine thank you, Gabriel,” he says and places the paperback book down between his crossed legs. His eyes turn to Dean again.

“Ah yes, freckles over here,” Gabriel says, moving to stand again. “Your new roommate. This is Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester, this is Castiel Novak. You’re lucky, Dean-o, Cas here’s a good one. I’ll grab your scrubs, dude, by all means get acquainted.”

And he’s gone. Castiel casts one last look to Dean before returning to his book. One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, Dean sees. Little fucking ironic, but Dean doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks over to the unoccupied bed and slumps down before pushing a hand over his face and huffing out a breath. It’s been a long fucking two days, and it’s taking its toll. And less than seventy two hours ago, Dean was driving the highway at eighty mph, beer still in hand, empty painkiller pack on the passenger seat. He drove off the fucking edge of the earth and now here he is. Sat in a psych ward with a kid that’s probably still in high school, a brother that’s probably just about going crazy about all this in Stanford and Ellen driving all the way back to Sioux Falls having threatened to hit Dean upside the head if he didn’t sign the papers to be in here. On the plus side, so little sleep and so many painkillers had quenched any nightmares so that was a bonus. The darkness pressing in on him now doesn’t seem so red roses and chocolate boxes though. Maybe the new place’ll keep it better. Maybe it’ll make it worse. Fuck knows. But right about now he’s willing to try it out, even if it does mean –

“Here you go, Dean-o,” comes a cheery voice, and Dean looks up to see Gabriel back at the door. He places the blue and white fabrics on his bed, black slipper type shoes placed on top, all neat and orderly. Military.

Dean stands and looks at Gabriel, who’s taken to standing a few yards away, staring at him. It’s creeping Dean out, especially when Gabriel chuckles.

“Sorry, man, gotta keep an eye on you,” Gabe explains, folding his arms. “You can keep your undies on though.”

Dean scowls at the situation, not anyone in particular and turns to face the wall before stripping. Off goes his jacket, the soft, brown leather one his dad left him for the birthday he went off in the army, off comes his plaid shirt, the one Jo bought him the last Christmas he was home, and the t shirt and warn jeans he lives his civilian life in. Regretfully, he pulls on the blue scrub trousers and V neck tee, leaving the slippers on the floor. He hands Gabriel his normal life back, old bike boots on top. He’s in a uniform, again. There’s something closely familiar about being just another card in the deck, another uniform in the sea of them, but Dean never really liked that aspect. In his last days as an officer, they didn’t treat him like any other soldier. He was fucking special, for once in his life, and it cost him everything he had.

“Perfect,” Gabe says, “I’ll give ‘em to your bro when he shows up.” He turns to move away, winking at Castiel who ignores it and returns his attention back to the story. “Take a nap, Dean, Cas’ll let you know when dinner’s ready, won’t you Cas?”

Castiel nods silently from his book.

“There you go,” Gabe says, leaving them both in the room. He calls to someone outside the door, “Garth, go fish?”

Dean goes back to the bed, earning a loud crack and creak when he drops his entire weight onto the springs. Fuckity fuck if he gives a shit though. Damn, he’s tired. Too long, needs to sleep now. Hope for the best no nightmares…he’s safe.

 

 

_“Wake up, shit.”_

_Dean does, accompanying the liquid suddenly covering his face. He doesn’t even flinch anymore, he never does. He just blinks his eyes open so he can see past the blurs, though why he does that he doesn’t even know. He knows what he’s gonna see, why does he need to see it? He knows why. They’ll burn him if he doesn’t. He knows._

_The familiar room meets him, sandy and hot, an old air fan in the corner for its native occupants, specifically pointed away from Dean. Scar-guy stands in front of him, bandana covering his mouth. Not that it’s any use. He’s inside and if Dean wanted to recognise him, he could. The scar over his left eye is deep and ugly. Probably matching the one on his own cheek, if the weeklong agony is anything to go by._

_“Which friend today, soldier boy? Little girly, hhm?”_

_Dean spits in his face. He’s punched._

_Sergeant Robinson, a younger soldier, dog-handler, same age as Jo, reminds him of her. She’s young, she doesn’t deserve it, so fucked up, fuck all of this. He wants to tell, he needs to, he needs his troops to be okay. But he can’t. Because he knows things these bastards need, and he can’t tell them anything because that’s his job. That’s what he’s been trained. They never taught him what to do if they threatened the others, though. So he assumes he’s doing it right. It feels about as far from right as he could get on a rocket-fuelled carriage when Cassie Robinson is pulled out of the small crowd of Dean’s soldiers._

_Dean screams at them. He tells them he’ll kill them, skin them alive if they hurt her anymore. Another young soldier, Adam Milligan, calls out too, begs them to leave the girl and take him instead. He’s just knocked out cold with the butt of some guy’s gun._

_“Talk, boy,” scar says, his hand around Cassie’s neck. “I’ll kill her in front of you, hhm? Maybe I’ll touch her, cut her up a bit, feed you her blood, hhm?”_

_Dean shouts at him, and when the blade touches Cassie’s throat for the first time and she chokes, Dean tells her it’s gonna be okay, because she’ll see her little brother again, the one that died in the pool when they were kids, she’ll play with her Granddad, play Frisbee in the park. He sobs his sorrow to her and her eyes are on his when the light finally leaves them._

_“No, no, no, you bastard, I’ll kill you, Cassie, I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, no, no, no, no, no, no…”_

“Dean?”

_They’re gonna kill them all whilst Dean watches, kill them as Dean lets them die…_

“For god’s sake Dean, wake up!”

Dean slams his eyes open.

Two bright blue, unmarred eyes fill his own. He’s safe, he’s home, he’s in Colorado, Sam’s safe, Jo’s safe…Castiel.

He’s safe, apparently.


End file.
